


out here in plain sight

by nymeriahale



Category: Rugby RPF, Rugby Union RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-24 00:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14943797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymeriahale/pseuds/nymeriahale
Summary: Owen pulls a face - a 40 minute delay is not how anyone likes to start a trip. “Don’t know about you but I’m getting my head down, had enough of travelling for today.”It’s George’s turn to nod agreement. He watches as Owen shifts down in his seat, trying to get comfortable, looking more and more irritated. He laughs quietly when Owen whacks his knee - they may be in the nice seats, but they’re still not built for rugby players.“Lean on me,” George offers.“Yeah?” Owen checks.While England know they’re dating, theoretically, they don't see the proof of it all that often. They're pretty private as a rule but right now George just wants as many hours sleep as he can manage, as comfortably as he can manage. No gawking rugby players are going to take that away from him.





	out here in plain sight

**Author's Note:**

> As soon as I saw that England had flown to SA in [these seats](https://onemileatatime.boardingarea.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/British-Airways-Business-Class-11.jpg) this fic had to be written.
> 
> title from I Know Places by Taylor Swift

“Finally,” George mutters, irritated, as the plane takes off.

“Hm?” Owen asks, leaning in - presumably not having heard George over the engines.

“I said ‘finally’,” George says louder, directly into Owen’s ear.

Owen pulls a face as he moves away, nodding - a 40 minute delay is not how anyone likes to start a trip. “Don’t know about you but I’m getting my head down, had enough of travelling for today.”

It’s George’s turn to nod agreement. He watches as Owen shifts down in his seat, trying to get comfortable, looking more and more irritated. He laughs quietly when Owen whacks his knee - they may be in the nice seats, but they’re still not built for rugby players.

“Lean on me,” George offers.

“Yeah?” Owen checks.

While England know they’re dating, theoretically, they don't see the proof of it all that often. They're pretty private as a rule but right now George just wants as many hours sleep as he can manage, as comfortably as he can manage. No gawking rugby players are going to take that away from him.

“Yeah,” George confirms, shifting closer.

It still takes Owen a few minutes to get settled, to get the arm rest and dividers between them out of the way and arrange himself so his head is resting on George’s shoulder. He sighs in contentment when he’s done.

“Comfortable?” George asks quietly, ignoring Tom Curry eyeing them curiously. Only his second England tour, he probably doesn't know yet - he'll learn.

Owen hums thoughtfully. “Nearly,” he decides, turning further into George and bringing his arm across his body to rest his hand on George's stomach. “Yep,” he pronounces. “Comfortable.”

“Good,” George says softly, dropping a quick kiss into Owen’s hair before tilting his head to rest it on top of Owen’s. “See you in the morning,” he says optimistically.

“See you in the middle of the night,” Owen says, more realistically.

~~~

George wakes to the rocking of turbulence, grumbles in his throat and shifts closer to the warmth lining his side.

“Alright?” Owen asks, quiet. 

George starts in surprise - he hadn't expected Owen to be awake. “Rather be asleep,” he replies, opening his eyes to see Owen on his phone.

“I can't sleep,” Owen complains, clearly frustrated. “Got barely an hour, been awake for another.”

George lifts his head slowly, stretching his neck out as he becomes more aware of the way it aches. Two hours on an angle would explain the pain he's feeling now, and the noise of the other lads chatting - it must not even be 10pm.

Owen doesn't take his chance to move off George, stays tucked into his shoulder, his arm with phone in hand draped across George's chest.

George smiles at Owen’s apparent contentment, shifts the arm between their bodies just slightly, trying not to disturb Owen, until he can get a hand under Owen’s hip.

Owen looks up at George at that, tilting his head in question.

George shakes his head - he hadn’t been seeking Owen’s attention, hadn’t wanted anything. He was just trying to shift the pressure on his shoulder, looking for a little more connection, but now -

George considers Owen’s curious, open face. Leans in for a brief kiss, unable to resist.

“That all?” Owen asks when George pulls away.

“Yeah,” George shrugs, squeezing Owen’s hip and smiling slightly as Owen accepts that and settles back into his shoulder, returning his attention to his phone.

George looks up from Owen for the first time since waking up, looks over him to Tom Curry’s seat - catches him staring, again.

“Alright?” George asks.

“Yeah,” Tom blushes, but doesn't let the apparent embarrassment stop him. “Are you -?” he asks, looking between the two of them, not finishing his question.

“Depends on the end the sentence,” Owen points out, not looking up from his phone.

“But probably, yes,” George gives the kid a break.

“Okay,” Tom accepts hurriedly, looking back down at his phone screen.

“Mean,” George scolds quietly - Owen just shrugs.

“Film?” George suggests, giving up on that particular angle on conversation.

Owen shrugs, again, but makes a positive sound after a moment's contemplation.

“Words?” George suggests next.

“No,” Owen says, just to be contrary.

George chuckles, shaking his head, and settles to the serious matter of choosing a film for them both. Owen can't stay awake through a film most days, so George is hoping this will help.

~~~

Three hours later, George is considering regretting his decision - the film had helped Owen, who’s now been asleep for a solid two hours, but George had become engrossed in the plot and now can’t get comfortable enough to sleep. His neck is still aching from his first stint of napping, and he’s not sure he’s had feeling in his arm for about an hour now. Owen seems peaceful though, a rare occurrence for him while flying, so George can’t quite bring himself to either move or regret it.

“Aw,” Jamie George coos, loud, from the aisle nearest George.

George frowns as he looks around, over Elliot Daly next to him, to see Jamie looking at - him. Or rather, him and Owen.

“Look at you two,” Jamie goes on - still loud.

George’s frown deepens - Owen’s going to wake up at this rate. “Yeah?” he questions flatly.

“You are adorable,” Elliot puts in. 

“Owen won’t be so adorable if you wake him up,” George warns, keeping his voice low.

“Too late,” Owen grumbles. He presses forwards into George’s neck briefly then pulls away, blinking. He sits up tall for a moment, stretching, before slumping back down into his seat. George mourns the loss of warmth.

“Sorry mate,” Jamie apologises, seriously. “You just looked too cute to leave alone - it’s like that thing where people want to murder kittens.”

“What?” Owen frowns. 

“I read about that,” Elliot says, excited - far too much so for after midnight. “People get an aggression response to cute things, right?”

“Okay,” Owen accepts, shaking his head and closing his eyes again.

“I’m not sure that’s the aggression response Owen is having right now,” George says lightly.

“Oh, right - I was actually going to the loo,” Jamie realises. “Talk to you in the morning, night boys!”

“Night,” Elliot bids, nods to Owen and George before settling down in his seat and closing his eyes.

It’s hard to tell but George thinks it’s quiet on the plane, now, the team either asleep or trying to be. The hum of the engines is soothing, constant white noise muffling any little disturbance - apart from Jamie George, apparently.

“You been awake long?” George asks, quiet, aware of Elliot next to him now trying to get to sleep.

Owen shakes his head. “Probably would’ve dropped off again if not for Jamie,” he says ruefully.

George pulls a sympathetic face.

“Side is starting to hurt though, so,” Owen shrugs, stretching out the side that had been slumped in to George, then reaching up and stretching out backwards with a satisfied groan. He stops mid movement, leaning back into the corner of his seat, away from George, his arms raised over his head. George eyes the wide expanse of Owen’s chest longingly - he knows just how comfortable that can be for napping.

“Might just sleep here, actually, pretty cozy,” Owen comments, relaxing back into the corner.

“Yeah?” George replies.

Owen opens his eyes, must read the desire on George’s face. “Yeah,” he smiles, small. “Settle in,” he invites.

George grins, takes the pillow from behind him and leans forwards to tuck it behind Owen’s head, Owen leaning forwards to let him.

“Oh yeah, that’s perfect,” Owen sighs, nestling back into it.

George feels his smile soften. “Good,” he says, pleased.

George considers Owen for a moment before shifting himself closer, sitting as close as he can to Owen’s side. It leaves him half sat on the dividers between their seats, which is pretty uncomfortable, but George knows how to fix that. He slips an arm around Owen’s waist, under his back, and leans in, resting on Owen fully, tucking his head under Owen’s chin. He sighs in contentment as the shift in weight reduces the discomfort from the seat below him, wrapping his other arm around Owen too, angling it higher up towards his shoulder blades.

“Comfortable?” Owen asks, sounding amused at George’s carfeul arrangement.

“Yeah,” George sighs, squirming a little just to check there are no minor improvements to be made. 

Nope, perfect.

“Good,” Owen echoes George, finally bringing his arms down from above his head and wrapping them around George in a mirror image of George’s hold on him. One arm wrapped around his waist, holding on, the other resting lightly above it. 

George lets out another long sigh - there were improvements to be made, after all. It must be perfect this time, he thinks, humming quietly as Owen squeezes him gently. 

“Sleep,” George instructs, feeling it start to claim him after so long unable to get comfortable.

“Sleep,” Owen agrees, voice already starting to blur at the edges - George isn’t sure if that’s him or Owen himself, but either way neither of them are long for the land of the waking.

~~~

The next time George wakes fully enough to register such things his and Owen’s legs have become tangled together, one of George’s now tucked under Owen and reducing the stretch in his side. They're as wrapped up as they would be in bed at home, if not more so - just more dressed, and surrounded by teammates. George spends a hazy moment considering being self conscious about this before deeming it wasted energy. The boys already know, that fact actually keeping them safe from compromising photos. And they're comfortable, on an aeroplane - that's not something to be taken lightly.

With that decided George considers letting sleep embrace him yet again, before Mike Brown's voice filters through his consciousness.

“Aw, have you seen Faz and Fordy? It's sickening,” he hears - is too tired to even consider tensing up before the clarification comes. “I've never seen anyone so soundly asleep on a plane. I reckon I could sleep if I was lying like that - hey, Maro, can I try?”

“No,” comes Maro’s irritated voice. 

“You didn't even look!” Mike protests.

“No,” is all Maro responds.

George feels a smile tug at his lips, burrows deeper into Owen’s chest to try and hide it.

“Look - he's smiling in his sleep!” Mike says, sounding disgusted. “On an aeroplane!”

“Relationship goals tbh,” Tom says, sounding about as sleepy as George feels.

There’s a beat of silence.

“I have no idea what you just said,” Mike responds earnestly. 

George feels Owen’s chest tremble beneath him - Owen must be awake and listening too, suppressing laughter.

“Makes you want something like that,” is Tom’s next attempt. 

“Oh,” Mike sounds surprised. “Are you-?”

“No?” Tom is audibly confused by the leap. “They just seem - comfortable, like you said.”

“We’d be more comfortable if we didn’t have to hear our teammates gossiping about us every few hours, while we’re trying to sleep,” Owen says pointedly.

“You’ve never cared what we thought,” Mike dismisses.

“True,” Owen accepts. “I do care when you think it loudly, though.”

George tries to hide another smile.

“Is he always so happy when he sleeps?” Mike asks. “I swear he doesn’t smile half that much when he’s awake.”

“Oh, he’s not asleep,” Owen says confidently.

“How’d you know?” George asks, voice groggier than he’d expected. He blinks his eyes open, considers sitting up to join in the conversation properly but swiftly dismisses the idea when Owen tightens his hold briefly. If Owen doesn’t want him to move, George isn’t going anywhere. Maybe they can get some more sleep, after this conversation is done.

“You never smile in your sleep,” Owen reveals. 

“Huh.” George shifts his head so he can see Mike, making eye contact and shrugging. “Guess neither of us were as soundly asleep as you thought,” he points out.

“We are pretty comfortable though,” Owen muses.

“Oh, definitely,” George agrees, smiling at the growing irritation on Mike’s face.

“Now you’re just bragging,” Mike complains.

“Pretty much,” George agrees. “If you’d had as comfortable a sleep as me you’d be doing the same.”

“What, wrapped up in Faz like you’re his little teddy bear? I’ll pass,” Mike scorns.

George shrugs, unconcerned by Mike’s vitriol. “Your loss.”

“Is that an open offer?” Tom joins in. “‘cause it does look pretty nice.”

“This is a one man only deal,” Owen tells Tom, tightening his hold again.

George grins at Tom smugly.

“Maybe you should try again to convince Maro,” Owen suggests. “Get some sleep - jealousy’s not a good look. Gotta be ready for training later,” he warns, just as snide as Mike had been.

“Thanks for that, Faz,” Maro calls from in front of them.

Mike - gives up. He sneers at the two of them before finally returning to the seat in front, grumbling inaudibly under his breath.

“I think he agrees,” George says lightly, quiet enough that Mike won’t be able to hear.

“Preparation is very important,” Owen says somberly. “We should get some more sleep, too.”

“Yes, captain,” George agrees, rolling his eyes fondly.

George leans back, ignoring the resistance Owen gives, props himself up with one arm on Owen’s chest so he can look him in the eye. “You still good?” he asks seriously as Owen’s arms slip down to rest on the small of his back. Preparation _is_ important, and George won’t have either of them injured because Owen felt like pissing off Mike - fun as it had been.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Owen smiles slightly, tucking a thumb under George’s t shirt and rubbing his bare skin reassuringly. “No strain, no aches. You?”

“Good,” George confirms. 

“Good,” Owen repeats back. “More sleep?”

“More sleep,” George agrees, settling back to Owen’s chest readily. He really does make a good pillow.

They drift off together at 40,000 feet, every limb intertwined. Teammates surround them, may comment as they come and go, but Owen and George lie peaceful, comfortable, in their own little bubble. It would take far more than teammates to burst it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! As always I can be found on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/nymeriahale) and now also have a [rugby tumblr](http://fordfarrell.tumblr.com). I'd love to hear from you either there or in comments!


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